Chapter 12: Little Angel

Malcom tried not to adjust himself as she stepped one graceful little leg into the tub followed by the other. She was beautiful. Small, and a little on the thin side, but that was easily remedied with some good food and rest. It would take all his restraint to allow her the time she needed to grow into her wolf, and learn about her life with him and his clan.

The haircut he’d given her definitely wasn’t a professional or perfect, but it suited her delicate, elfin features. And, bonus, it gave him access to her perfect little neck. He was getting hard just thinking of her graceful neck: slender and pale. God he could have spent all day just kissing and suckling her throat. He could not wait to mark her as his. There were so many places he wanted to leave his mating bite, and the base of her neck, alongside her spine, was top of that list.

As much as he’d hated to see her cry over her hair, he had enjoyed the intimacy of the process, his fingers in her soft locks, smoothing, combing, shaping. He was already loathing the thought that someone else would eventually go in and fix it, run their fingers through her hair the way he had. Also, he kind of liked her with short hair, the way it highlighted her graceful neck and shoulders while framing her face, drawing his eyes to her full lips and delicate nose, sprinkled with freckles like the sun had peppered her sweet face with soft kisses throughout her life. If he had his way, she would keep her hair like this, at least for a long while.

And her tits, those were magnificent. He had to avoid touching them too much as he undressed her, or he would have come in his pants. They were perfect, a nice handful for him, and he had big hands. Tight little rosebud nipples were hardening as he looked at them as he touched her; a perfect shade of dusky pink against her pale skin. The smattering of freckles that painted her face and shoulders didn’t reach these milky mounds of perfection. He was planning on spending his time with them soon, but he had to restrain himself or this would be over before either of them were really ready.

And her scent. Even over the smelly bath shit one of his assistants had left in his room, he could scent her arousal. She wanted him. Needed him. The delayed gratification was sheer torture for both of them, though he knew that first she needed to be cared for. She was tired, confused, and dirty. And as much as he wanted to pin her against the bathroom wall, or floor, or anywhere really and knot her the way an alpha took his mate, he knew that she needed him to be gentle right then. Besides, the delay would only make the release that much better.

Cutting her hair had been traumatic for her, not to mention all the other things that had happened with in the last few days, weeks really, and he wanted her to feel good. To trust him. Their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start between his announcement, her attack, and then running from him (which he was still a little peeved about, even if he kind of understood why); he needed to reset their connection through taking care of her, first by making her clean then by taking care of her arousal.

How he started their relationship here, with her consent, would set the tone for the rest of their lives. He was an alpha, and she had all the markings of a good little omega: submissive, quiet, soft, but not weak. He could just as easily use their bond to take what he wanted then. But more than asserting his control, he wanted her to give him her submission because she wanted it, not because he commanded it. Malcom knew that a good alpha didn’t command because he could, but because it was a gift from his pack, from his mate. And she needed to come to him on her terms, especially since none of this had been her decision up to this point.

He also knew that her submissive nature wasn’t a weakness. It was by far stronger than anything he could give. She might let him lead, but she would have all the control. She already had him wrapped around one small finger; he would burn the world for her. She just didn’t quite understand that yet.

They didn’t speak as he took a wash cloth and lathered it with soap. She watched him with those big blue eyes as he gently moved the wash cloth over her delicate body. First her shoulders and arms, taking care to pay attention to each of her slender fingers. Then her back and neck. Slowly dragging the cloth to wash away the grime and dirt of her past few days. And finally down her chest.

Here, he couldn’t quite help himself. Her breasts were amazing and tantalizing, and he made sure that each of them was very, thoroughly cleaned. Poppy started to moan, softly at first as he tended to each of her tits. When he began, his touch was delicate but as her nipples started to pebble under his administration, he became more bold as he fondled them.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” He grabbed one of her nipples and gave it a soft squeeze; she moaned in response, her head dropping back a little as she thrust her chest closer to his hands.

“Yes.” Her legs were scissoring in the tub, causing little waves, as she sought the friction her greedy little pussy needed.

“Yes what?” He asked, giving her nipple a little tug and twist.

She squeaked in surprise, her mouth hanging open in a small O as she registered the new sensations. Poppy blinked at him as he twisted again, harder this time.

“Yes what, my little lass?” His voice was a low growl and his pants were uncomfortably tight at this point, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to explore all of her before he gave in to his needs.

“Yes… daddy?” She hesitated a little, whether it was from trying to remember what she should call him or because she hesitated over the word itself, he wasn’t sure.

“That’s my good girl.” He purred and then leaned over, taking the abused nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip before licking away the pain. She tasted like she smelled: delicious and all his.

“Oh my god.” She breathed as she shoved her chest closer to his mouth, “Please, oh please, oh please.”

She was babbling at this point, unable to form coherent sentences and probably unsure exactly what she was asking for anyway. He chuckled to himself. His mate was responsive and needy. She was perfect.

Malcom shifted his attention to the other breast, nipping, tugging, pulling, kissing, and licking that nipple until she was an incoherent mess, her words not really making sense. Though he did catch a lot of “oh my gods” and “pleases.” She was a polite little mate. He appreciated that. Little girls should be polite with their daddies.